


the only two stars in the sky

by archesmic



Series: cataclysmic is for when celestial bodies align [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, it's one am i don't know what i am doing, kageyama is an emotionally constipated teenage boy and we been knew, lots of introspection, love letter to hinata by kageyama tobio
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:20:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25420792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/archesmic/pseuds/archesmic
Summary: if there is one thing that hinata is, it is the sun: bright, giving, and the center of the world. look too long, and you’ll go blind. kageyama knows this, but he looks anyway.a story about how kageyama and hinata are a binary star system, revolving around one common center of mass, their paths intersecting for the rest of eternity, and kageyama is the only one who doesn't know that.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio
Series: cataclysmic is for when celestial bodies align [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1841290
Comments: 6
Kudos: 17





	1. a thousand words and a language only you know.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> first year comes and goes. hinata stays, and kageyama will never forget that.

There are a thousand words on the tip of Kageyama Tobio's tongue, and each of them taste like he's swallowed the acrid fumes of a plane engine. He says none of them now as the volleyball hits the ground in front of him, as if mocking his blind faith that someone would be there to hit it. There's no one else in the second gymnasium, so he shouldn't feel so unsettled that there is nobody to receive his serve. The sound still sends a chill down his spine, though. That day at Kitagawa Daiichi has long since passed, but sometimes when he closes his eyes he can still see it like he's living his life on loop. Kageyama recognizes the feeling of the world being pulled out from beneath his feet, the walls he built up crumbling, and the unsteady castle he tried to build off of their remains.

A part of him whispers maliciously, _you knew that it would happen_.

Kageyama rolls another volleyball in his hands absentmindedly, thinking about all of the signs that he had chosen not to see. A setter controls the court, but there has to be someone there to listen.

Karasuno would listen. They had to.

When Kageyama first says that name, flipping through browser pages and bypassing Shiratorizawa, he thinks that it's like swallowing a mint leaf and realizing that everything is reset. He can start anew here. He can build the team up again and go to nationals. He could show everyone who had turned their back to him in Kitagawa Daiichi that he hadn't fallen. But even as he makes his choice he recognizes that ugly, nameless fear in the pit of his stomach.

That same part of him whispers traitorously, _you will never know what it feels like to belong_.

And Kageyama, against everything, finds it easy to agree. 

He's never met anyone else quite like him. There are a thousand words on the tip of Kageyama Tobio's tongue, but still he cannot describe the thrill that volleyball sends through his veins. Maybe he is better off doing other things, like becoming a doctor or a businessman or going to a nice university like Miwa. But he can't. He doesn't.

Instead, he listens to the echo of the volleyball hitting the palm of his hand in a perfect serve and turns away. There are other people out there. Other volleyball players who would help him reach his goals. Other people who would help him reach the sky and beyond.

He's never been good at words, so he articulates everything in the only way he knows how. An unsteady castle cannot stand without conviction--if he ignores how it shouldn't be able to stand in the first place, then everything would be alright.

So Kageyama rolls up the sleeves of his jacket, ready to try again, when the gym door flies open and some short boy with hair brighter than the sun crashes into his life.

He hates Hinata Shouyou until he doesn’t.

It goes something like this: the first match against Seijo is a disaster in more ways than one. Kageyama clenches his fist behind his back and stares resolutely at the volleyball in his hand when he thinks about Kindaichi and Kunimi and Oikawa and Iwaizumi. He's drowning in a pool of self-inflicted fears that eats away at him from the inside and threatens to collapse his unsteady castle within seconds. 

Kindaichi's already gotten to Hinata, reminded Hinata of who Kageyama is: the demanding setter who would discard anyone as soon as they became useless. It scares him more than he wants to admit, because he knows that it would have been true before. Now, though, he doesn't know what's true. The uncertainty has him digging his nails into his palm and leaving crescent-shaped marks behind.

“Nice serve,” comes Suga's call, and Kageyama grabs onto that voice like it's his lifeline.

His serve arcs perfectly over the net and the game is in motion once again. Out of the corner of Kageyama's eye, he sees Hinata move, and the rest is history.

The match that comes after is the opposite of a disaster.

It's a series of ups and downs that sends adrenaline through Kageyama's veins. Winning isn't winning unless you know what losing feels like. They are two sides of the same coin, and he knows that he will keep pushing until he has exhausted both sides.

“Race you to the bus,” Hinata says after they lose to Nekoma. 

Kageyama is already running.

Someone shouts behind them to slow down--Daichi, probably, the captain who constantly looks after the other team members--but neither of them listen. Kageyama reaches the bus first, but Hinata is the first to climb in.

“I win,” Kageyama declares, even as Tsukishima pushes past him and forces him to sit down.

“I got here first,” Hinata retorts. The two of them dissolve into another mindless argument like it's second nature.

There's a hunger in Kageyama that he recognizes in the boy sitting next to him on the way back to Miyagi. Maybe that's why he keeps looking to Hinata, expecting him to be there even when he isn't. Hinata probably sees it too, because even after their argument is over and done with, he is still coming back to push Kageyama even further. They're careful around each other in the way that partners who understand each other best when they're not speaking in a language everyone else knows, and Kageyama finds himself going over hand signals with Hinata in the back of class despite Tsukishima's barbed comments about their grades.

It goes something like this: Hinata is standing on the opposite side of the court, two steps into his approach and only milliseconds away from launching into the air, and Kageyama watches with a scrutinizing stare. There are a million things he could find wrong with in Hinata, but he voices none of them. It's not his job, he reminds himself, to find Hinata's flaws.

So instead he pulls their freak quick from practice and sends a different set Hinata's way.

“Whoa!” Hinata yelps, missing and barely landing on the ground on both feet. He had dodged crashing into the net somehow. Whipping around to face Kageyama, he grins and shouts, “What was that?”

“Hit it next time,” Kageyama grouses, but he can't disguise the way that his enthusiasm matches Hinata's. “You can do better if you can use different attacks. We should start working on them before everyone gets too used to you.”

He could have done a better job explaining, but Kageyama is already thinking about millions of ways he could adjust that last set to better suit Hinata. Just as Asahi likes his sets a little further away from the net, Hinata likes his fast and explosive. Each spiker is different, each attack is a variation of another, each play is a dynamic working of players and volleyball and action and reaction.

It's his job to remember that and use it to his advantage.

Hinata misses a second time and Kageyama says, “Sorry. That was too high.”

Kageyama pretends like he doesn't see Suga cover his smile with his hand before turning away to talk to Daichi about their next upcoming practice match.

It goes like this: Kageyama points at Hinata and tells him, “When I'm here, you're invincible.”

It goes like this: Hinata passes him a pork bun on their way home from practice and runs ahead with Nishinoya, yelling about the libero's receives and forgetting that he had given Kageyama the pork bun he had bitten. Tsukishima pulls a face and makes a remark about how unhygienic it is of Hinata, only for Yamaguchi to laugh and say something about how infectious Hinata's excitement is.

Kageyama isn't paying attention, though. He's mulling over his serves, normally so reliable, wondering how he could become even better. The one constant in his life is improvement. Just because practice is over doesn't mean that volleyball is going to disappear from his mind. He'll call Suga later tonight to finish his math homework before watching one of their old matches.

“Stop running off,” Daichi's voice rings out, cutting through the night air and wrenching Kageyama back into the present. Nishinoya and Hinata had disappeared around the corner, completely unaware of what their captain had just said.

Ever the responsible captain, the one who watches out for his teammates not just because he is their captain but because he wants to support them in their journeys to conquer the world, Daichi lets out a tired sigh. Asahi sympathetically shakes his head, saying, “Do you have any gray hairs yet?”

“Not yet,” Daichi replies, sounding only slightly miffed. “I will, soon.”

Kageyama watches as Daichi grabs Hinata's collar before he goes running off in the wrong direction and bites into his pork bun.

It goes like this: Hinata never knows when to stop. Kageyama doesn't, either. Whenever Kageyama does something, Hinata is right there next to him. They are practically anchored together by the singular commonality that has them coming back to the court with the goal to reach further heights. The two of them are locked in an unspoken competition that Kageyama refuses to lose.

“I'm going to get there with or without you,” Kageyama vaguely remembers saying to Hinata. It's so long ago that he can't even recall how Hinata had responded.

But neither of them are particularly good with their words when it comes to each other, so they articulate it in the only way they know how.

“Toss to me,” Hinata says. He's lying sprawled out on the floor of the second gymnasium, staring up at the rafters far above his head.

“I did toss to you,” Kageyama replies, flopping down next to him. “Just now.”

“That's not what I meant,” Hinata says. “Toss to me again, okay?”

And Kageyama hears the words that Hinata won't voice. He doesn't think that he would ever want to stop tossing to Hinata, not when the two of them work the way that they do together.

Somewhere along the way, Kageyama wonders when everything he did became less about challenging the world and more about going as far as he could with this team today before worrying about tomorrow. If Hinata wants to go even further, then Kageyama would take him there if he could--because in the end, the two of them are one and the same. They are parallel lines that will never cross. They are parallel lines working towards the same ending and driving each other onwards.

Pressing his lips together, Kageyama raises his hands towards the rafters of the gymnasium and imagines that he's setting a volleyball towards the clouds.

“Okay.”

Yachi is the first one to bring it up. She’s sitting in her classroom, tapping the eraser of her pencil against her chin and examining the way that Kageyama’s face scrunches up at the lines of English words that he doesn’t understand. Eventually she grows tired of staring and voices whatever has been bothering her since he came in at the beginning of lunch.

“Where’s Hinata?” she asks.

Kageyama’s gaze flicks up at her almost instantly. She jumps in surprise but doesn’t flinch under his intense stare. It’s been months since they have met and Kageyama’s spent nearly as long letting her tutor him in all of the subjects that he is almost failing.

“I don’t know,” Kageyama replies, shrugging nonchalantly. “Dumbass probably ran to Nekoma. Why?”

“Oh,” Yachi says, deflating a little. “I haven’t seen him all day, so I thought you’d know. The two of you are kind of inseparable, aren’t you?”

“No,” Kageyama denies immediately. “No way.”

He thinks about it, though. He thinks about Yachi’s words a lot more than he’d care to admit.

Two weeks after Kageyama and Hinata win the mock match and prove that they can work together well enough to join the team, Kageyama realizes that Hinata has started to walk with Kageyama home. It isn't unusual for the team to leave the club room together after practice, nor is it unusual for them to stop by the store to pick up a snack or two. But somewhere between pestering the third years about their plays and examining popsicles with Tanaka, Hinata has permanently wedged himself into Kageyama's daily life.

In Kageyama's defense, though, it just happens.

Hinata's chattering away about his new ideas, things he wants to improve, or the last block by Tsukishima, and Kageyama switches from passively listening to saying more than a few words. Then he's waving over his shoulder and hopping onto his bike, disappearing almost as quickly as he had come before Kageyama can even reply. It's a strange feeling to realize that someone wants to keep him company so far off the court. Kageyama feels it acutely from the other side of a tunnel.

Two weeks later, though, it really hits him.

“Why don't you go with Tanaka?” Kageyama asks, cutting Hinata off from his rant about spiking. “He's on the way back for you.”

Hinata stops in his tracks and Kageyama nearly trips over the wheels of his bike. He doesn't say anything for a second, as though he's only now realizing that Kageyama is right. But Hinata shrugs and says, “You're on the way back, too.”

“My place is more out of the way,” Kageyama points out. “Do you know how to read a map?”

“Of course I do!” Hinata says defensively. “But if I go your way, then I have to ride my bike all the way home. Legs are important in volleyball!”

Kageyama opens his mouth to speak, but can't bring himself to say anything about how Hinata should learn to take a break. He's not the one who should be saying that, because he would sooner eat his words than let Hinata surpass him in any way.

“Don't blame me if you get lost,” he replies, and Hinata laughs like it's the stupidest thing Kageyama could have said.

“I'm just here so you don't get lost,” Hinata says. “Come on, let's go! I have a lot of work to do!”

For a moment Kageyama wonders if that work is the homework that both of them had procrastinated on in favor of throwing themselves head first into high school volleyball. Then he finds that he doesn't like being lumped in the same group as Hinata and hopes that it's a completely different type of work. Tsukishima had commented earlier that the two of them are like fighting cats, a comparison that left Kageyama glowering at the beanpole for the entire practice.

But Tsukishima always said things like that. Somehow, Tsukishima always knows how to get underneath Kageyama's skin, preying on the fears that the setter had discovered that day at Kitagawa Daiichi and reminding him that they would never go away. Words are dangerous things in the hands of people who want to hurt, no matter how trivial it might seem.

“Hey!” he shouts. “Don't leave me behind!”

Hinata, from further down the street, waves the hand carrying the plastic bag from the store above his head. “I'm going to eat the last pork bun if you don't hurry up!”

He doesn't even wait for Kageyama to catch up. Grinding his teeth together, Kageyama runs down the street so he doesn't lose sight of the other boy. Daichi would lock him out of the second gymnasium again if he showed up the next day and found out that Hinata didn't show up to school because he took the wrong turn somewhere.

“Why don't you like pork buns?” Hinata asks when Kageyama falls in pace with him. The wheels of his bike make a rhythmic ticking sound as they walk, a reminder to Kageyama not to trip over them. Hinata grins, as energetic now as he was at the start of the day. Not for the last time, Kageyama asks himself if pork buns are where Hinata draws his boundless energy from.

It's a weird question to think about. Kageyama has always had enough energy left to challenge Hinata at any given point of the day. Even if he is too tired, he's certain that he would find a way to make it up. That's just the way that it is with Hinata. The other boy is always bouncing around him a few paces ahead, waiting for Kageyama to catch up before spinning out of reach. It keeps him on his toes. It keeps him from going idle. It shakes up that unsteady castle of his and makes him build new supports so he is always ready for another mutiny.

That quiet voice at the back of his head hates how he looks at Hinata and thinks about this. Hinata is a constant--a loud, bright constant--who chases after volleyball the same way that Kageyama does. Except, he supposes, it's more noticeable because Hinata is a decoy. He's always looking towards Kageyama. _Send it my way_ , his eyes seem to be begging right before each set, _send it over here_! And Kageyama listens to that pull because he can't be the one who is left behind in the dust.

“I do like them,” Kageyama responds stiffly, settling for the short response since he has no idea how to tell Hinata everything that had just passed through his mind. “You just eat them all before I can get to them.”

Hinata's eyes fly open wide and he shoves the bag that the store clerk had given them into Kageyama's face. “What do you mean? There's one left!”

 _One that you threatened to eat_ , Kageyama nearly says.

He looks from the pork bun to Hinata's face. There is an earnest brightness to his expression but all Kageyama can do is stare at him blankly. Looking at Hinata is like looking at the sun, and two weeks after their victory in that mock match against the other first year pair Kageyama is slowly starting to recognize it. If his gaze lingers too long, he will be blinded. 

So Kageyama averts his eyes and glares at the bun like it's committed a crime. Maybe it has. It reminds him of the sheer audacity of Hinata to assume that he could become a constant in Kageyama's life.

The thing is, Kageyama doesn't hate the idea. He can't wrap his head around how much he doesn't hate the idea because it's not an idea that should exist, anyway. All signs point away from Rome, and every single deficiency of Rome pales in comparison to Kageyama's own.

“You can have it,” Kageyama says, words coming out unintentionally harsh. “I'm not hungry.”

“Are you sure?” Hinata asks, frowning. “We didn't get anything else.”

Kageyama narrows his eyes and moves his glare from the bag to Hinata. The other boy yelps in response and immediately shouts, “Okay, okay! I'll take it! Why are you so grumpy?”

Kageyama almost kicks his bike wheel on in response.

The first time that Kageyama hears about Hinata's younger sister is shortly after practice one winter day. Hinata is zipping up his jacket and talking animatedly to Yamaguchi--their friendship is a surprising one, especially after how abrasive Tsukishima is and how Yamaguchi often falls behind in the other's shadow, but Kageyama isn't about to say anything when Tsukishima's words cut worse than a blunt knife on a good day--when he mentions his younger sister.

It makes Kageyama pause, because Miwa had always wanted a younger sister. He remembers her lamenting his hair when they were younger, telling him that if he were a girl and his hair were longer, she would be braiding it all the time.

“You have a little sister?” Kageyama asks. He's already changed, and when Hinata turns to look at him he sees the other boy's eyes widen at yet another loss in another made up competition.

“Yeah,” Hinata says, blinking and wrapping his scarf around his neck quickly. He jumps forward to stand in front of Kageyama. “Her name's Natsu!”

And before Kageyama can ask anymore, Hinata is bounding outside yelling at him to hurry up before he gets left behind. Kageyama grumbles to himself before following.

He thinks that he hears Suga's laugh and Daichi's questioning voice behind him, but he doesn't pay much attention.

The first time that Kageyama meets Natsu, though, is a few months later right before his final exams. He's over at Hinata's house to study, a situation that himself from a year ago would have scoffed at, but it's with Hinata and Kageyama cannot help but feel that maybe this isn't a lost cause. Besides, he needs to have decent enough grades to be able to play in the upcoming tournament, anyway. Hinata is thinking the same thing, he tells himself. That's why it is nine at night, and he hasn't even started packing up to go home yet. They're almost done--he can sense it.

“You can't go home now,” a girl's voice says when Kageyama starts searching through his bag for a replacement pencil. Hinata had accidentally broken his in their excited dash for the kitchen to pick up some snacks.

Kageyama's head snaps up and he sees a girl--practically a miniature version of Hinata--rubbing her eyes and yawning.

She looks at him with those wide eyes of hers, and there's the sound of laughter behind him.

“Natsu's not scared of your glare,” Hinata declares, swooping his sister up and spinning her around. His little sister laughs, a sound that almost mirrors Hinata's own laugh. “Better luck next time, Kageyama!”

“What?” Kageyama splutters, turning red at the realization that he had probably been glaring at her. It wasn't his fault that his neutral expression was so intense. “I didn't--”

“She's right, though,” Hinata points out, nodding towards the window. It's completely dark out. “If you want, you could sleep over?”

It's unlike Hinata to be the voice of reason, but someone has to when there are two of them in the same room and neither of them know how to use their brains outside of volleyball.

Kageyama opens his mouth, tries to speak, but no words come out. There aren't even a thousand words on the tip of his tongue. There is only one, and Kageyama doesn't even know how to say it.

It's then that Kageyama realizes that looking at Hinata is like looking at the sun, and all he could ever hope to do is reflect that light like the moon.

Miwa overhears them one night. They're arguing about the placement of a newspaper cutout on a poster in the living room of Kageyama's home, and Miwa's nasty habit of turning up unannounced to visit rears its head when she walks in on Hinata trying to tape an entire newspaper on her little brother's face.

“What's going on here?” she asks, crossing her arms and fixing her brother with the glare he had learned from her. He yelps, pushing Hinata away so quickly that the other boy topples over.

“When did you get back?” he demands. And then, feeling brave, he adds, “Why don't you ever tell me?”

Miwa moves her stare from Kageyama to Hinata and narrows her eyes. It's a bone-chilling look, and Kageyama is all too aware that she had spent the better part of her childhood as the only person that Kageyama was really afraid of. “Who's this?”

Hinata is sitting up, gaze jumping from one sibling to the other like he can't quite comprehend how neither of them are answering each other's questions. So he echoes Miwa and asks, “Who's this?”

“That's my sister,” Kageyama says irritably, peeling tape off of his face. “Miwa. And this is my dumbass teammate, Hinata.”

“A teammate, huh.” His sister hums and pulls off her jacket. She smiles like she knows something Kageyama doesn't, like she knows the world's worst kept secret and refuses to tell him. “The two of you get along pretty well.”

“Nice to meet you, Miwa!” Hinata chirps, and Miwa's smile changes to something far friendlier.

“I'll leave you two to it, then," she says, and closes the door behind her.”

“I’m going to set to you one day,” Miya Atsumu says, and Kageyama bites back the words that he wants to say. There are a thousand words at the tip of his tongue but too few that he can actually say. He swallows them, and they taste like the expired milk that the vending machine across from his classroom had given him.

When they are defeated at nationals in their first year, Kageyama doesn't say much to Hinata. They go to practice again afterwards, walk home together like they always do, and spend lunchtime in a strange silence outside of the second gymnasium. For someone who is usually the loudest in the room, Hinata can be eerily quiet when he wants to.

Unsettled, Kageyama nudges Hinata with his foot. The two of them are sitting on the stairs leading up to the club room waiting for the others, and Hinata hasn't pestered Kageyama about his tosses once. Kageyama doesn't know what it is, because it is only him that Hinata seems to have problems talking to these days. He would be lying if the mood isn't rubbing off on him too. Kageyama supposes that Hinata might be feeling guilty, somehow, even though the others have reassured him time and time again that nothing was his fault.

Privately, Kageyama thinks that it's a ridiculous thing to be so upset about. Volleyball is a team sport, and the team together is a single unit working towards a dream. Responsibility should never rest solely on one person's shoulders.

But Kageyama isn't good with words, so he expresses himself in the only way he knows how. He nudges Hinata again with his foot until the other boy looks up and fixes him with those haunting eyes.

“Race you to my place,” Kageyama says.

Hinata opens his mouth only to find that he has no words. Kageyama waits for him to collect himself, but runs off before Hinata can completely process what's going on.

“Hey! That's not fair!” Hinata shouts. Kageyama hears the club room door fly open and Yamaguchi's laughter, but he hardly pays it any attention. The entire world pales in comparison 

Hinata beats him, but if you ask Kageyama it's because he cheated.

“You just,” Kageyama huffs out, bending over to catch his breath, “don't know when to stop, don't you?”

“Neither do you,” Hinata shoots back, lying on the street and staring up at the sky. Kageyama feels the corners of his lips turn upwards into a smile, and he has to school his features into a frown. It's the closest he ever comes to admitting to Hinata that maybe he is something more, something Kageyama cannot reach even if he tried.

“Tomorrow,” Kageyama says like it's a promise. “Tomorrow, I'm going to toss to you.”

“You toss to me every day,” Hinata replies, confusion seeping into his voice.

“I'm going to toss to you,” Kageyama repeats stubbornly. “So stop moping, okay? We're going to go back again and we're going to go even further.”

Hinata raises his hands up in front of him and spreads his fingers towards the sky and says, “Okay.”

Hinata is the one who starts to eat lunch with Kageyama. Kageyama never understood why, especially when they would never get along easily. Hinata had said that it was because he wanted to figure out his rival, but that had been before they played that practice match against Seijo. There wasn't much to learn about Kageyama back then either, except that he liked to get strawberry milk from the vending machine and one time his money got jammed inside because someone had stuffed gum into it.

But, Kageyama supposes, it is the irrevocable fact that he lives and breathes volleyball that has Hinata coming back. They have lunch outside the second gymnasium sometimes, and bump a volleyball between themselves on other days. Yachi ropes them into going over her notes with her before exams, and sometimes Nishinoya and Tanaka want to hang out with the third years in their classroom. It isn't long before Kageyama starts to notice that Yachi had been right.

He and Hinata are inseparable, in more ways than one.

“Careful,” Tsukishima had said. “People might start thinking that the two of you are friends.”

He said that word like it was the worst possible thing, but Kageyama felt more apprehensive than offended. He hadn't had friends before, not really. Only means to an end, all of which had turned their back to him eventually. He hadn't even had a team, not when they had so easily tossed them aside.

Kageyama has to remind himself that he was the one who pushed them away first. He doesn’t think that he had even let them in to begin with.

It wouldn't happen again.

Not when Hinata clings onto Kageyama like a barnacle, following him around chattering away like a ball of energy. Kageyama lets him, because he finds out quickly that when Hinata isn't around the world's a little bit too quiet for his liking. 

The days come and go with a near boring predictability now that nationals are over. The phone call, however, is unexpected. It comes four hours after the graduation ceremony for Karasuno's third years--Yachi surreptitiously wiped her eyes on the back of her hands for the entire time, and even Tsukishima was a little bit down--during the final trip to Ukai's store as the current Karasuno team. Nobody is particularly sad anymore, not in the type of sadness that drags everyone else down, but Kageyama isn't ready to say good-bye to the third years. He might not be able to understand how they are so cheerful about it, moving on to this new chapter of their lives, but if he supposes that it's because he's not ready for that stage yet.

At least, that's what Suga had said to him when Kageyama first brought it up. The two setters are sitting in the library, but no studying is getting done. They talked to each other often during breaks and after school. At first, it had been about volleyball. Then, it had been about other things. Suga had grown on Kageyama just as much as the rest of the team, always ready to lend a helping hand to his underclassmen if he needed it.

Over the course of one year, Kageyama had needed Suga's advice the most.

“Don't be so sad,” Suga had scolded. “We're not going anywhere, you know. We'll still be watching you guys, even if we're not playing volleyball anymore.”

“Huh?” Kageyama had responded intelligently, nearly stabbing his hand with his pencil. Suga had just slapped his back hard enough to surprise him, but not hard enough to knock him off balance--and for that, Kageyama is relieved. He still remembers the time Daichi had complained for days that his bones were still rattling after Suga had slapped him during a match.

“We're not giving volleyball up,” Suga had told him, because Suga could see right through Kageyama if he really wanted to. Because it was clear enough to anyone that volleyball is what mattered most to Kageyama. “It's always going to be there for us. Besides, it's not like we could ever forget about it with you bunch as our underclassmen.”

And then Suga had smiled that guileless smile of his and said, “Something tells me that you're going to go far, Kageyama. I can't wait to see you all succeed and I get to tell everyone that I got to play with you guys in high school.”

Suga catches Kageyama's gaze now, a knowing glint in his eyes. Then he ducks his head to whisper something into Daichi's ear and the moment passes.

But back to the phone call.

The buzz of his phone from his jacket pocket shatters the bittersweet atmosphere of the graduation and leaves Kageyama feeling like cold water has been dumped over him. Pulling his phone from his pocket, Kageyama looks at the phone screen and sees a name that he didn't think he would ever have to see again.

“I'll be right back,” he says over the sound of Nishinoya loudly berating Asahi. The others nod.

Stepping around the corner of the store, he looks at the name on his screen again and answers the call. “Hello?”

“Tobio! How's my favorite underclassman doing?”

Oikawa's voice is cheery when he picks up, almost abrasively so, and Kageyama doesn't need to hide the grimace at the sound of that stupid nickname. To anyone else, it might have been endearing, but Kageyama can only hear the hint of something more behind Oikawa's facade. He doesn't think that he would ever forget what lies behind the flawless front that Oikawa puts up, nor does he think that he ever wants to see it again.

“I'm fine,” Kageyama answers shortly. “Congratulations on graduating.”

There's a laugh, one note too high to be real. “How do you know that I graduated? What if I failed my classes?”

“Iwaizumi wouldn't have let you,” Kageyama says, tone matter-of-fact, and there is another laugh. This time, it sounds a little more genuine. It is the realest thing Kageyama has ever heard from Oikawa in a long time, and he is all too aware of it.

“You're right,” Oikawa says. He doesn't thank Kageyama--he never would. “I suppose you think that this will be the last you'll see of me, isn't it? The end of my setting career, brought about by crushing defeat at your hands?”

“Of course not,” replies Kageyama. Oikawa would never give up like that, not when he thinks that there could be more to be done. Oikawa looks at Kageyama and sees a rival, and Kageyama looks at Oikawa and sees much of the same. Once, he had seen someone that he could learn from. Now, Kageyama knows that there is something to be learned from every person. It's like a cycle, one that Kageyama hopes is no longer as vicious and self-destructive. He might get the chance to find out at an undefined time in the far future.

“Yeah,” Oikawa says. “I'll be leaving for Argentina soon.”

Unbidden, Kageyama asks, “What about Iwaizumi?”

There's a stilted pause, as though Oikawa cannot quite believe that Kageyama had actually asked that. But the pair of childhood friends had always been inseparable. Their paths after graduation wouldn't simply diverge.

“He's going to California,” comes Oikawa's breezy answer.

“California?” Kageyama echoes, the syllables not sitting right with him. A part of him had always known that graduating from high school means that the whole world would open up to everyone. Someone of Oikawa's caliber, in both drive and potential, certainly wouldn't let themselves be bound to only Japan. The whole world is out there for the taking, and Oikawa would be a fool not to seize the opportunity.

But Iwaizumi would be heading to California and Oikawa elsewhere. Kageyama struggles to reconcile the two.

“Don't sound so surprised,” says Oikawa. “It's not like the world is ending and aliens are abducting us.”

“I never said anything like that,” Kageyama points out, but he doesn't say anything about the weird comparisons Oikawa always comes up with. “Good to know you two will be fine.”

“What about you and that shorty?” Oikawa asks. There is still a teasing note in his voice, evidenced in how he still refuses to call Hinata by his name, but it is still a far too serious question. Kageyama is only in his first year and his biggest concern is whether or not he had passed his exams.

“What about Hinata?”

“The two of you,” Oikawa says slowly, like he's having an epiphany at ten-thirty at night to the soundtrack of Kageyama's slowly increasing heart rate. “You're partners now, but you won't always be. I'm sure you know that by now.”

 _No_ , Kageyama wants to say in visceral rejection. Even though he knows that Oikawa is right, he doesn't want to think about the day that would inevitably come. _No, that will never be possible_. 

“Don't let that stop you from going far, Tobio,” his upperclassman tells him. “I still need to beat you. It wouldn't be satisfying if you're not at the top of your game.”

Kageyama takes inhales, a shuddering breath. “Good luck, Oikawa.”

He means it, but only because he knows that Oikawa would never take it anyway.

“I won't be needing your luck,” Oikawa answers, as petty as always. “Next time we see each other, I'm going to beat you.”

“Next time we see each other?” Kageyama repeats, feeling like a broken record. “But you're going to Argentina.”

“Come on,” Oikawa chides. “The national level would never be enough for you. If you think it is, then I must be expecting too much from you.”

He says it like he's taunting Kageyama, like he wants to get a rise out of him and push him to new heights like the gracious upperclassman he is. But all Kageyama says is, “Maybe,” like he doesn't plan on going pro after high school if a team would have him. In the vaguest corners of his mind he thinks about the Olympics and the time that his older sister, Miwa, had told him she would buy him a meal if he could ever go that far. And then he thinks about Hinata, and how he doesn't need Oikawa's taunts anymore to remind him that he has to keep pushing the limits if he wants to achieve his dreams.

“I guess I'll see you later,” Oikawa says. Where there should be finality, there is none.

“Yeah,” Kageyama agrees. “I'll see you around.”

It's more of a promise than anything else. For once, Kageyama gets the sense that Oikawa means every word.

He hates Hinata until he doesn’t. Somewhere during their first year, Kageyama realizes that maybe he's never hated Hinata. Maybe he's been looking at him this whole time the way that he has always looked at something that he's never had and wondered how it was allowed to exist.

His second year rolls around, quiet and unassuming. He opens up the second gymnasium with the keys that Ennoshita had given him, because Ennoshita knows that Kageyama likes to show up earlier than anyone else, save Hinata. The other boy is waiting for him at the steps, that bright look back in his eyes that has Kageyama grimacing.

“Did you camp out here or something?” he demands, and then he hates how harsh those words sound. He can’t take it back now, though. Hinata doesn’t seem to notice, beaming up at Kageyama like he is his sun.

“No, I just got here before you did,” Hinata declares, holding his hand out. “You should give me the key!”

“No way,” Kageyama snaps, pushing Hinata away from him and slipping into the gym. He drops his bag down on the floor, wishing for a moment that he had thought to stop by his classroom or something. But he hadn’t, because he had thought that Hinata would be there and he hadn’t wanted to run into him. Oikawa’s words still ring in his mind, still tearing at a fresh wound that Kageyama hadn’t even known was there, but now Hinata is here. Hinata is standing in front of him and smiling like he is his sun.

“Come on,” Hinata wheedles. “I beat you today! Give me the key!”

And Kageyama throws him the key, if only to get him to shut up. Hinata catches it easily and beams like the only thing that matters to him is the fact that Kageyama is here _now_ and the future isn’t beckoning them to come. 

That smile is the very same smile he had seen across the court in the first game they had played against each other, and Kageyama wonders vaguely how come he hadn’t seen it back then. Looking at Hinata now, Kageyama comes to the strangest conclusion that this must be the color that those fossilized bugs in amber saw before they died.

That’s when it hits him. Kageyama’s thought about it before, though. He’s thought about it a million times, the thoughts running through his mind faster than Hinata ever could. 

There are a thousand words on the tip of Kageyama Tobio’s tongue, and each of them taste like the pork buns that Hinata likes to buy from the store on their way home from practice. If he could visualize them, Kageyama would see the stars. He would see the volleyball court where he first tossed to Hinata, the journey home where he promised to keep tossing to him, the first time he looked around the court and thought of his team as _their_ team.

Kageyama’s never been good at words, so he articulates everything in the only way he knows how to. An unsteady castle cannot stand in the first place, and a castle on its own could never withstand the wear of time. He is all too aware of this fact. He’s known this from the very start.

So Kageyama holds his fist out and Hinata blinks in surprise. “Come on. Let me toss to you.”

Hinata grins and bumps Kageyama’s fist with his own. “Of course.”

There are a thousand words on the tip of Kageyama Tobio’s tongue, each as weightless as the last and a hundred times more valuable than the one that came before. He says none of them now, because when Hinata talks he realizes that Hinata knows those words anyway.

So they go unsaid.


	2. a thousand words and too few days to tell you.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> time marches on, unforgiving and unyielding. kageyama feels this from the far end of a tunnel and looks to his left.

Sunday morning. It's raining, storming just as the weatherman had said, and Kageyama Tobio thinks about how the weatherman had been at the same job for the past five years. The funny thing about it is that he doesn't remember the exact sound of the weatherman's voice, nor the exact facial features, but he recognizes everything else familiar about Sunday mornings and the first thing he always notices is that the weatherman is still the same.

"Sunday morning, we will see the first storm of the season," the weatherman had said, in that unrecognizable constant of a voice. "Watch out for minor flooding."

He used to sit in front of the television on Sunday mornings, waiting for his grandfather to finish his morning stretches, before he could go out on the Kageyama family morning runs. Kageyama supposes that at some point, they had stopped being family runs, because Miwa had quit volleyball and his parents started coming home later and later once he learned how to properly walk. But they were still runs, and they were still habit, and if humans are not habitual creatures then Kageyama Tobio would be the strangest of them all.

There would be a sort of half moment of silence before his grandfather came back into the house. Then, Kageyama would hear the sound of the back door sliding shut. He would jump to his feet, grin plastered on his face, and his grandfather would laugh and say something like "Don't tire yourself out before you even start, Tobio!"

Sunday morning. He used to hate it when it rained on Sunday mornings. He used to hate the half moment of silence that followed the weather report, because no matter how many months later he would always be half-anticipating the sound of the back door sliding shut.

Kageyama slips his shoes on, zips up his jacket all the way to his chin, and reaches for his umbrella. He checks his phone for the time to make sure that he is on schedule. On whatever arbitrary schedule that habit has burned into his brain, because Sunday mornings aren't just for him anymore.

It was a gradual encroachment. Kageyama family runs disappeared and become Kageyama's morning runs at half past six in the morning, when the weatherman finished his segment and there is a half moment pause before the regular morning news begins. Kageyama's morning runs morph into Kageyama and Hinata morning runs, because Hinata Shouyou is stubborn and Kageyama can never find a way to say no when he can see a way to win another half-pointless competition against the shorter boy, nor can he find a way to stick around for that half moment silence when he knows that Hinata is standing outside his door waiting.

Silence is the last thing on his mind, because it is Sunday morning and silence simply doesn't exist whenever he is with Hinata.

Even the quietest moments find some way to fill his head with a static that he associates with having too many thoughts at one time. There are countless times that his head has been filled with the same type of static, and they fall roughly like this: when he first touched a volleyball, when he held onto his grandfather's hands until he couldn't anymore, and when Miwa would string along more boyfriends than consistent hairstyles per month. His head gets filled with a million thoughts but no words, only raw emotion that Kageyama could never quite name until the moment was over and done with.

It's the same and somehow different with Hinata.

He doesn't know what it is.

"Where's Hinata?" Tsukishima asks. He leans against the doorframe of the classroom, a stack of papers in one hand. The girls who were about to leave take one look at him and run away laughing, no doubt about to whisper to each other about their near encounter with _the_ Tsukishima Kei. After the volleyball team's success in the previous year, they are the talk of the school. The former powerhouse, Kageyama remembers hearing, restored to their glory because of the first years.

Of course, Kageyama knows that it wasn't just them. Alone, the four of them couldn't have raised the team on their own. It was everyone, working together, and Kageyama's lower lip curls at Tsukishima's question.

"How would I know?" he asks.

Tsukishima frowns, but he only looks irritated at Kageyama's lack of a satisfactory answer rather than the accusatory tone of his. "The two of you are practically glued together at the hip. He's not with Yachi, so I came to ask you."

"I have no idea," Kageyama says, and flips open his notebook like he's preparing for class. Tsukishima rolls his eyes, because he knows that Kageyama's attention span in class is about as long as a goldfish's attention span.

"Give these to him next time you see him, then," Tsukishima says, and drops the papers in front of Kageyama.

They're notes from Takeda, Kageyama realizes. He moves them underneath his own papers and says, "Okay. See you later."

Hinata is always dragging Kageyama around. On Sunday morning, Kageyama opens his front door for his morning run and sees Hinata standing outside by the street, kicking at the side of the sidewalk absentmindedly.

"How long were you out there?" Kageyama asks gruffly, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he walks over.

"Not long," Hinata says. "Come on, let's go for a run!"

Kageyama frowns, because Hinata never joins him for runs on Sundays. He usually never sees Hinata on Sundays, because it is their only day off; unless, of course, Hinata and him need to study for some exam.

"Afterwards," Hinata says, when he sees Kageyama's frown permanently etched onto his face, "let's go to this cafe!"

"A cafe," Kageyama echoes. "Why?"

"Kenma keeps telling me about it," Hinata says. "Plus, Yachi says it's good! And we're already up and about! Please?"

Kageyama looks at Hinata's face, at those bug-trapping-amber-eyes, and caves. "Okay."

They go to the cafe. Kageyama orders a coffee, takes one sip, and chokes. He pretends like Hinata's laughter hurts him. He pretends like Hinata telling him that he needs cream and sugar or something, because he's a dumbass who always needs to drink flavored milk, is the worst thing in the world.

They go back to the cafe the next Sunday. And the Sunday after that. And the Sunday after that, until third year ends.

  
  


Hinata invites Kageyama to stay overnight during an autumn storm during their second year. Papers are strewn all over the floor, and Kageyama is pretty sure that Natsu has been stomping all over them whenever she came in to bring them a snack. But it hardly matters, considering that they had gotten far too little studying done and too little of anything else.

"It's raining outside," Hinata says, as Kageyama starts to pack up. He can't distinguish which notes are his--staring at the pages as long as he had been does that--but if he ends up taking Hinata's they could just trade the next day.

"It's not pouring," Kageyama points out. "I can get back home."

He had done it numerous times before, anyway. Kageyama doesn't see why this time would be any different. But Hinata frowns, fixing him with an exasperated stare, and says, "Yes, it is. It's pouring. Are you deaf or something?"

"No," Kageyama says, all too quickly. Reflexively, he lashes out just as he always does when Hinata picks a fight. Arguing with the other boy is second nature, because the words never mean much. The two of them always have volleyball to come back to, anchoring them together. "I'm not deaf."

Hinata only gives him a disbelieving look before opening the door and calling, "Natsu? Is it pouring outside?"

His kid sister pokes her head out of her room and replies, "Yes! Is Tobio staying over?"

Kageyama doesn't think that he would ever get used to the sound of his first name coming from her mouth. The only other person to call him that, with the added addition of the most annoying nickname he has ever had, is Oikawa, and Oikawa is in Argentina. Miwa didn't count, so the only other person before that had been his grandfather.

"I guess so," Kageyama sighs. And as if on cue, the volume of the rain hitting the roof raises to a level that is almost deafening. "I'll have to call Miwa."

It isn't the strangest thing for Kageyama to stay over. It's just a lot less frequent than Hinata staying over, because Kageyama's place is on the way. He only ever goes to Hinata's when they have enough time to spend the whole day focusing on something. They hadn't done a particularly good job of that today.

"I'll go get you some blankets," Hinata says, and ducks around Kageyama before he can get out a response.

Natsu blinks up at Kageyama and smiles. "Did you get any studying done?"

Kageyama narrows his eyes and comes to the conclusion, right then and there, that anyone with the Hinata family name is a menace. Natsu has a habit of saying all the things that she knows would catch Kageyama off-guard. Her brother has a habit of driving Kageyama crazy, but only when it comes to the normal things. That's what happens, he supposes, when the shared language you speak is volleyball.

And that was the thing about Hinata. No matter how much Kageyama tried to look away, Hinata just refused to be left behind. He had given up on that early in first year, given into those petty competitions because something in him had told him to chase after Hinata. He had listened to that voice from the opposite end of a tunnel and hoped that it would pull him out. Maybe, if he emerged one day, he would find himself next to Hinata.

"I'll be there," Hinata had said, and he had.

Kageyama had reached out towards those three words. He hadn't let go of them since.

He doesn't say any of that, though, because he wouldn't know how to phrase it.

"That's not important," Kageyama replies instead. He closes the door in Natsu's face, knowing that the girl would just go back to bed. Setting his bag down, he fishes around in his pockets for his phone to dial Miwa.

His sister had a nasty habit of turning up unannounced. She had arrived back home two days before, and hadn't left him alone since. The phone rings three times before she picks up. Kageyama can hear the sound of kitchen utensils in the background.

Miwa sounds strangely tired when she answers. "Hello?"

For a split-second, Kageyama feels a flash of guilt. He would be leaving her alone in that house with cold parents. Then he remembers that Miwa had left him for years with nothing but her sporadic, unannounced visits to keep him him going. The petty side of him, the side that would never hesitate to make life a little bit difficult for his older sister, is much louder than the reasonable side of him.

"I'm staying over at Hinata's place today," he says.

Miwa exhales, the sound of static brushing over the receiver. Suddenly, Kageyama vividly remembers how she used to shove him out of the door to play volleyball after she had quit. He sighs, mirroring his sister, to push that memory away.

"That's a good idea," she says. It's only four words, but Kageyama knows exactly what is draining her. "I'll come pick you up tomorrow."

He doesn't tell her that she doesn't need to, that he's perfectly capable of taking care of himself in the morning, that he had been doing fine while she wasn't home. Kageyama thinks about what it's like to be cooped up in a house that doesn't want you there. He thinks about Miwa, pacing up and down her room the way she always had done when he was younger and hiding under her bed.

Kageyama says, "Okay. See you then."

"Get a good sleep, Tobio," Miwa tells him. When she says his name, it doesn't sound like a taunt. It sounds familiar, like it's always been meant for her to say. "Let's go get something from grandfather's favorite bakery."

"Okay," Kageyama says again, because it's the only thing that he can say. For a long time, he had always wondered if siblings were meant to be this way: distant, but not. Friends, but not. Miwa had spent too long away from home, and Kageyama had spent too long on the court of the sport she had walked away from, but maybe one day they would find a common ground again.

Behind him, Hinata pushes open the door. When he sees that Kageyama is on the phone, he mouths _Hello!_ to Miwa. Miwa doesn't hear him, and Kageyama doesn't tell her. He simply hangs up and fixes Hinata with a half-serious glare like everything is alright.

"Do you want to play some video games?" Hinata asks, seeing right through Kageyama's glare.

"Yeah," Kageyama answers, and he lunges for the remotes sitting on Hinata's desk at the exact same moment Hinata does.

Hinata doesn't ask anything else.

When Miwa picks him up, Hinata takes in the way that her nose is shaped the exact same way as Kageyama's and the way her eyes are just as sharp as her younger brother's. Miwa examines him just as closely, but she only says, "Do you want to come get some breakfast?"

They take Natsu with them, too. Miwa twists her hair into a braid that she had once tried on Kageyama when they were younger and Kageyama buys the same pastries he had been getting for the past few years.

"The pork buns here are pretty good," Kageyama says to Hinata.

Hinata takes a bite, chewing thoughtfully. "Coach's are free, though."

Kageyama finds that he can't argue with that. The silence stretches between the two of them, and Natsu says something to Miwa that makes his older sister laugh, tension draining from her shoulders.

And then, suddenly, Miwa and Natsu are a part of his life. They already had been, separately, but now it is Miwa and Natsu. Natsu and Miwa. Whenever Miwa visits, she asks about Hinata. She asks about how he's doing in volleyball, and then inevitably about schoolwork, and then whether or not Kageyama has had another sleepover with him.

"It's not a sleepover," Kageyama always sputters, whenever she asks. Miwa only gives him a meaningful look, and he shuts up.

He has friends now, he thinks, and this is her way of telling him that she is proud of him. Kageyama has always been the one standing off to the side around the kids his age, but now he had someone else. He had an entire volleyball team's worth of people, depending on whether or not Tsukishima felt like being annoying.

Miwa would never admit that out loud. She would eat her hair first.

It's partly because of Miwa that he stays over at Hinata's more often when she is around. Maybe it is the bakery visits she drags him on the next morning, or maybe it is the way that Natsu's laughter makes all of Miwa's worries disappear just for those few hours. Kageyama isn't sure what it is. All he knows is that he hasn't seen his sister smile like that since she last stood on the volleyball court.

And then, whenever he is over, Natsu asks him about his older sister. It's almost as though she expects Miwa to come in the door with him each time. Hinata finds it funny.

"I didn't think you'd have an older sister," he told Kageyama one Sunday morning. They're halfway through Kageyama's--their--morning run, and somehow Hinata has enough energy to talk. "Actually, it does make sense."

"What do you mean?" Kageyama demands, barely offended.

"You can barely take care of yourself!" Hinata crows, and races off. Kageyama blinks, the other boy's words sinking in.

"Hey!" he shouts, giving chase. "Get back here!"

He wonders later if all the Hinatas have this boundless energy. It's like trying to match the sun. Impossible, but Kageyama would give everything to just try.

At the beginning of third year, Kageyama finds himself standing in the grocery store with Hinata after practice. He's faced with lines and lines of vegetables, drinks he doesn't even know the names of, and a very cheerful Hinata.

"Why are we here again?" Kageyama asks, thinking to himself that Hinata's favorite pork buns aren't sold here. Ukai's store is on the other side of town. Kageyama's house is on the other side of town.

"We're picking up a drink for Natsu! She's been bugging me about this ever since her friend let her try some," Hinata says cheerfully. He takes a moment before plucking a bottle out from the rest. It's indistinguishable, but Kageyama doesn't say anything. Hinata is a surprisingly good older brother. Kageyama never would have guessed.

"You're not planning on walking with me back home, are you?"

"No way," Hinata says. "But you'll probably trip and fall into some ditch because you're too busy thinking about that practice match with Nekoma. You should stay over."

Kageyama's eyebrows shoot up. It's not the most outlandish thing, because Kageyama's stayed over before. But today it's different. It's been different for a long time. Kageyama looks at Hinata and sees the sun. Silence stretches between them and Kageyama is now painfully aware of how they never need to fill it in with anything, because it is a language of their own.

His mouth feels like it's full of cotton balls. He wonders if he can reflect the obliviousness of Hinata's request. He wonders if the strange feeling at the pit of his stomach is the reflection of Hinata himself.

But he says, "Sure."

"You should bring a volleyball next time you stay over," Hinata suggests one day at lunch. They are in their third year, and Kageyama has still not puzzled out how he can eat so quickly. Hinata has practically inhaled his food. After all, the sooner they finish eating, the sooner they can focus on their next play. Their next move. Being around Hinata is being around someone else who just looks at him and takes those thousand words from the tip of his tongue and translates it on their own.

"Natsu's been bugging you that much?" Kageyama asks, remembering the way Natsu had clung to her brother--and then, when Hinata had refused, him--before their weekend trip to Tokyo to play Nekoma again.

Hinata shrugs cheerfully. "Nah, she just finally asked our mom if she could come and watch one day."

Considering that Hinata is asking him to bring a volleyball over, Kageyama figures he knows what their mother said. It makes sense, especially given that the day before Hinata had gone home with a bruise on his cheek after accidentally receiving with his face three times. Even after all this time, it still happened when he wasn't paying attention.

"I'll bring it over next time," Kageyama sighs. He sets down his lunch and pushes the volleyball that had been near his feet in Hinata's direction.

Hinata beams in response.

Kageyama has to look away. It's too bright, he tells himself, and Hinata is too constant for him. That fear of being abandoned is still there, underlying everything despite all of the facts that state otherwise, despite the trust that he knows is there. He knows that Hinata wouldn't leave him like that-- _with me here, you're invincible,_ he had said, and he had meant every word--but that ugly fear still leaves an acrid taste in his mouth.

It tastes like spoiled milk. It tastes worse than spoiled milk. It tastes cloying, like all the sweetness has been clumped at the top, and then bitter all at the same time.

He smiles anyway, reflecting Hinata, and says, "Come on, idiot. Let's go find Tanaka."

Sunday morning. The only thing that is storming is Hinata's expression. There are clouds covering his head and raindrops from his eyes, and he's left a wet patch on Kageyama's limited edition Adidas running jacket. Kageyama doesn't think about how Miwa had thrown it at him after they had fought on his birthday and instead thinks about how Hinata hasn't moved for the past fifteen minutes.

Silence is the last thing on his mind, because it is Sunday morning and silence can never exist when he is with Hinata. His head is filled with a familiar static, like he's trying to think through radio waves sent from the brightest star in the universe.

 _That's Hinata_ , Kageyama thinks, from the far end of a distant tunnel. There is a strange feeling at the pit of his stomach and for fifteen minutes he cannot put a name to it.

But then he decides that it's contentment. Kageyama doesn't mistake it for idleness. He has never been a stranger to overwork--he's seen Iwaizumi chase after Oikawa back in Kitagawa Daiichi, and he's seen Iwaizumi and Oikawa when they had been third years--and he wishes that Hinata didn't pretend like he was. He can vividly remember Hinata tripping yesterday and struggling to get back up. Hinata had claimed it was from overheating, and the other members of the team might have believed him. Yamaguchi hadn't, though, judging from the look on his face, but Yamaguchi doesn't say anything the way that Kageyama does.

"Stop pushing yourself so hard, idiot."

To an outsider, his words might have even sounded caring.

Hinata meets his gaze and hears his words as what they really are. His eyes are dry now, but the front of Kageyama's limited edition Adidas running jacket certainly is not.

"I'm not pushing myself too hard," Hinata snaps, pushing himself away from Kageyama when he realizes how close they had been standing. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Kageyama realizes that he didn't hate it the way that he thought he would have.

Kageyama opens his mouth to argue back, but what comes out instead is, "You need to take better care of yourself. I can't set to an injured player."

The look on Hinata's face is stricken enough that Kageyama lets out an irritated sigh and gestures for him follow him into the house so they can go over strategies instead of their normal morning run.

Silence never existed between the two of them, not in the ways that mattered.

They don't go to nationals in their second year. The news comes on a Friday evening and the entire second gymnasium goes quiet in a silence that Kageyama can only call chilling.

Nishinoya moves first. He hasn't changed much in his third year, in a way that the change had been almost imperceptible at first. Shifting his weight, he announces that they should start cleaning up before it gets too late. Tanaka is shaken back to reality and he starts calling teammates in reckless abandon to drag them with him.

Ennoshita moves like he is trying to push through water. He locks himself in the supplies closet before Kageyama, who is closest, can stop him. Exchanging a meaningful glance with Tanaka, Kageyama goes to stand by the door in case Ennoshita needs anything.

"Come on," Tsukishima is saying to Yamaguchi. The freckled boy tears his gaze away from the closed doors and picks up a volleyball that had rolled to a stop by his feet.

"Coming, Tsukki," Yamaguchi calls, but there is a resigned note to his voice. Hinata follows, casting a strange glance over his shoulder in Kageyama's general direction.

It's a strange thing to think about. 

They aren't going to nationals this year.

Kageyama pretends like he can't hear the deep breaths that the third year in the supplies closet is taking in. The rest of the team is studiously doing something else, but Kageyama can see the way that they are tensed up. Hinata is decidedly not radiating the energy he always is as he gathers up the rest of the volleyballs, Nishinoya and Tanaka are directing the first years to clean up as quickly as possible, and Tsukishima and Yamaguchi are talking quietly in the corner.

The minutes stretch out, long and unforgiving. Kageyama finds that he doesn't like this silence at all.

Vaguely, impossibly, he thinks that he hears Ennoshita swear quietly.

Eventually, though, Tanaka makes his way over to him and rests his hand on his shoulder.

"I'll take care of this," Tanaka says.

"Okay," Kageyama replies. There are so many things that he wants to say to Tanaka. He wants to tell Tanaka to buy Ennoshita his favorite snacks from Coach Ukai's store, the one they still frequent after practice. He wants to tell Tanaka to tell Ennoshita that it's alright that they didn't go to nationals this year.

Here's the thing: to advance, a team must lose. To advance, the losing team must adapt. That's what Suga had told him numerous times over the previous year in those library meetings where an upperclassman saw a little bit of himself in a struggling underclassman and reached a hand out to help. For some people, volleyball isn't everything. And for others, loss is a natural part of winning.

He would never understand that, not really, because he breathes the language of volleyball like it is the only thing that he has ever known. But Kageyama can't hold it against Ennoshita.

People are all different.

"Let's go get some pork buns," Hinata tells him, pulling him back to the present and grabbing him by the arm. "We'll get you some strawberry milk, too."

Kageyama opens his mouth to tell Hinata that he doesn't mind getting pork buns--he's never minded, because pork buns remind him of Hinata even when the two of them are eating it together--but the other boy doesn't let him reply.

"I really liked that last toss you did," Hinata says quickly, like he wants Kageyama to think about something different, something that isn't about how Ennoshita is standing in the supplies room of the second gymnasium taking in deep, shuddering breathes and thinking about how he failed his team when they didn't make it to nationals, because Ennoshita has seen Kageyama's drive first and foremost and it is a captain's responsibility to see those dreams come to fruition--

"Really?" Kageyama asks, humoring Hinata because there is no way he can just ignore him. Talking to Hinata is like talking away all of the problems that eat away at his mind. "What about it?"

"Well," Hinata pauses, and Kageyama thinks about how he would never outgrow the way that he described things. "The way that it was all bwah, and then gwah, you know? I've never hit a back row toss like that before."

"The pipe?" Kageyama asks, trying to remember what he had done differently this time. He can't remember. He can't remember if there was anything different about it. All he can think about is how he is hyperaware of Hinata's grip on his wrist, anchoring him in a world where Ennoshita isn't devastated that he couldn't carry Kageyama further.

"Yeah, that!" There is a brief silence as Hinata unlocks his bicycle and stuffs his lock away in his bag. "We have to practice it more! I want to be able to hit it like Daichi and Asahi did! That way we'll be able to use it next time in nationals!"

And then Hinata snaps his mouth shut, eyes going wide because he had just remembered the reason that he had distracted Kageyama in the first place.

But all Kageyama does is extricate himself from Hinata's grasp and watch as the other boy struggles to puzzle out how to free his bike without knocking over the others. "You know that nationals isn't the only tournament, right?"

"Yeah," Hinata says easily. "But it's the one I want to go to the most."

Kageyama can only smile in response.

Sometime in between the nationals of second year--Kageyama watches with Hinata and Natsu, glaring at the television like he could bore a hole into it at some moments and other times in awe, watching Akaashi lead his team to victory and thinking about the way that Akaashi had looked at Bokuto and wondering what that would feel like, watching the Miya twins stand together on the same court they had been defeated at, at how different everything was but still the same--Kageyama looks at Hinata and sees the sun.

He's always seen him as the sun, Kageyama realizes one night. He's lying in his bed, silence stretching out between him and the moon outside. He's always been the sun, and Kageyama's only been reflecting what he had seen in him back at him.

He always had been reflecting, he thinks. Ever since his grandfather died. The slow march of time had caught up with him, he thinks. In those last days, Kageyama had held onto his grandfather's hands and talked to him about volleyball. It was the only language that the two of them could communicate in, a language that only the two of them could love. His sister, Miwa, had once, but she had left it behind.

Sometimes, he wonders if Miwa had been the strong one out of the two of them. Before, he had thought that she had been frivolous, ditching volleyball for a boyfriend that wouldn't stay. But she had adapted. She continued on with her life.

She seemed anything but heavy after their grandfather's death. That's why she had left home.

It still weighs on Kageyama to this day. And until it left him, he would reflect everything sent his way.

Once, Miwa stopped by during practice. She dropped off food for the team, talked to Yachi, and offered pointers to the first years even though the last time she had touched a volleyball was over ten years ago. By the time practice ends, she is in a deep conversation with Ennoshita about strategies and colleges.

Kageyama doesn't know how the two are related, but he doesn't ask.

Sunday morning. It's storming outside again, and the nagging voice at the back of Kageyama's head wonders if this will be the last stormy day of his third year. He shoves that thought away, hating how it reminds him of his subconscious countdown towards graduation, and turns off his alarm. Somewhere on the floor, he can hear Hinata rolling over onto his face.

"Five more minutes," Hinata mumbles around a mouthful of pillow.

"Get up," Kageyama grouses. "Stop eating my pillows."

Hinata doesn't move, so Kageyama hauls himself out of his bed and nudges him with his foot. When there is no response except for heavy breathing telling him that Hinata had fallen back asleep, Kageyama runs his hand over his face and exhales slowly. He casts a cursory glance around his room, cataloguing the jackets strewn across the floor and the practice bag that Hinata had left by the door. There's a mini crow figurine on his desk and about half a dozen other various trinkets that he had accumulated over the course of two and a half years. A mug sits next to the crow figurine and Kageyama remembers that Hinata has a matching one in his own room, if Natsu hadn't broken it yet.

He had started high school with a much emptier room.

Kageyama nudges Hinata again to no avail and thinks that he had started high school with a much emptier heart.

Shaking his head, Kageyama quietly slips out to the bathroom. He'll wake up Hinata when he gets back. They'll go on their weekly Kageyama-and-Hinata run, and then Hinata will come up with a place to go. In the end, though, they would probably end up at that corner cafe Kenma had recommended months ago, where they would sit in a static silence that filled Kageyama's head with the most unfamiliar feelings.

He decided that it was contentment, but Kageyama had never been good with his words.

But it is a silence with Hinata all the same and Kageyama finds that those Sunday mornings are the ones that stick in his memory. The weatherman recites his daily weather report, but Kageyama cannot remember his face. Hinata smiles at him like he is the sun, and that is all Kageyama could ever think about.

Sunday morning, and Hinata wakes up fifteen minutes later to find Kageyama already lacing up his shoes.

Logically, Kageyama should have known this would happen. The last set that he would send Hinata's way--against Inarizaki, of all schools--the last hit of his career at Karasuno. Of course it is fitting that it would be to Hinata. Kageyama began his high school volleyball journey with Hinata, and it would end with Hinata, too.

Later, when they are all lining up to thank each other for the game, Kageyama is all too aware of Hinata next to him. There are no tears. There is only a promise of something _more_ when he looks at him.

 _Good_ , Kageyama tells himself, _hold onto that._

Kageyama talks to a recruiter when the match is over. Schweiden Adlers, they tell him. They're interested. They want Hinata, too. But Hinata gets this strange look on his face and says that he'll think about it and leaves Kageyama in the dust. For the first time, Kageyama realizes Hinata doesn't leave the stadium with him.

For the first time, Kageyama looks next to him for someone and realizes that they aren't there.

"I'm going to Brazil," Hinata says.

It takes Kageyama a moment to process those words. He's going to the Adlers. It's already set in stone; everyone else knows that. Hinata knows that. And Hinata looks Kageyama in the eye and tells him that he isn't following.

That strange feeling at the pit of his stomach opens up even further. Kageyama feels like there are cotton balls in his mouth. He feels like he's bleeding, like that unsteady castle on the mountain built off of the remains of that cursed King of the Court is about to fall.

But he looks at Hinata. He looks at the sun, and he sees that light in those eyes, and says, "You're not going to change your mind, are you?"

"Of course not!" Hinata says, as if he's offended that Kageyama would even think that. "I'm going to go train! You better be prepared, okay?"

Kageyama thinks about what Oikawa had said to him, two years ago to this day, and wonders not for the last time if Oikawa is some sort of psychic. Hinata's words even mirror Oikawa's. The two of them are the same, he thinks, so dedicated to their sport. But only one of them speaks the language that Kageyama does. Maybe that's why this one hurts so much.

 _Hurts_ , Kageyama thinks. He hasn't hurt since his grandfather died. He hasn't really felt pain this acutely. Everything else, he had thought about with a strange detachment, felt what he was supposed to feel through a distant tunnel. But this time, it stabs him.

It is the most that Kageyama has felt since the day that he realized he would no longer be able to reach out and grab onto his grandfather’s hands, and he wants to get rid of it. It is altogether too much and too little, both at the same time.

"I should be saying that to you," Kageyama forces out, and Hinata's smile only widens.

He wonders if Hinata knows.

Silence stretches too long between them.

Sunday morning. Kageyama wakes up, and Hinata is gone. The weatherman is still the same weatherman, the brief moment pause is still the same brief moment of pause. He laces up his shoes for his morning run, zips up the limited edition Adidas running jacket Hinata had cried into, and closes the door behind him. He goes to the cafe they always went to and buys a black coffee just to spite that feeling at the pit of his stomach.

Sunday morning. Hinata is in Brazil, and Kageyama is still here where he began.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haha! what am i doing! not my research paper, clearly. 
> 
> the next chapter will be relatively shorter, i think, given my outline. but then again, i said that this entire fic would be a one-shot and then i found out that i lied.
> 
> follow me @[archesmic](https://twitter.com/archesmic) for updates!

**Author's Note:**

> this fic is dedicated to [@softsamu](https://twitter.com/softsamu), the jerk who made me write this fic i'm so upset. i know i promised you miwa + natsu interactions but surprise this isn't the one-shot i said it would be. sorry, i have a bio midterm so i needed to get this section out of my system first.
> 
> stay tuned for more! follow me [@ archesmic](https://twitter.com/archesmic) for updates.


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